Broken Angel
by trinitaria
Summary: RePosted! Liza lived a life of lonliness and pain, neglected by her family and void of friends. How does she know Kai? Can past demons bring them together? KaiOC


Disclaimer: I really do not think anyone reading this is so severely stupid that they would think that I own bey blade, but if you really, really want to, you can give it to me, I really wouldn't mind.

AN: this my friend is a list of strange and random things that get stuck in my head every time I try to start a new fic.

Flying pigs stuffed into the frilliest tutu you have _ever_ seen.

A big pink and green basket ball

The sad state the nation's cows are in

Forgive me… I just needed to get that off my chest. Onto the story!

Yo, thaz ya que man, get up there.

_Sheesh_, can't a person get some patience!

OW! Fine…jerk.

I hate my life, my mom, my sister, my brother. I hate my dad for dying and not taking me with him. But, when it all boils down to it, I hate the stars. Why? Because they show me what I cannot achieve. They shine there in the darkness, shining relentlessly, breaking through the darkness that surrounds them, while the darkness eats away at my soul, my core, my existence. I can't shine anymore, I'm a defect in the human nature, my light's gone out with my dad's.

Everyone has a talent a passion a drive that forces them onward no matter the consequence. Me, I've got talent. A lot actually, even if my mum never acknowledges it. I can sing and act and dance and draw and paint. But my passion is bey blading, when I pull that ripcord I can _feel_ again. I used to think my emotions died with my dad, but when I hold my bey blade, when I hear the voice of Aura my bit piece, I can feel again, I can cry and laugh and _feel_.

Today is the first day in my new school. I hear most of the bey blading teams attend, but I won't give myself away just yet. If you talk down to me, you're gonna get something up you're ass. But you leave me alone, I leave you alone. Hate me, just don't talk to me.

That's been my motto for life, I'm not dead yet so why not stick to it.

New school, here I come. I glared at myself in the mirror, dead straight silver hair, grey eyes void of emotion, but if you look a little deeper you could see the vague sparkle of anxiety, but the again not many people pay much attention to me anyways, so I'm safe, and I pray I always will be. I'm a shadow, I don't live in the shadows, I am the shadows. I have learnt to observe, to watch from a far and to know, by looking at a person I know them, if their pompous and almighty like my blonde, bimbo of a sister, or if their a jock like my retard of a brother. I _know_.

I sighed, I hate not knowing. Will he remember me? It's been so long. So much has happened, I am not a scared little kid in a black dress looking for a vent for my anger, I'm all grown up. I keep my anger, hoard it, I don't need a vent cause I bottle it up. Please, don't remember me, don't bring back those memories. I can't handle them, it's too soon, it's been years I know, but in my little bit of time and space, in my world, in the shadows, it hasn't been very long. Please don't remember me.

What to wear, what to wear. Why do I even bother, I always end up wearing whatever smells the cleanest. Today, it was black cargo pants, that was really baggy, a tight, dark blue, almost black top, my blue tinted shades, and a black, low rimmed hat with the rim all around, not just in front with my scoffed, black sneakers. My silver hair reached midway down my back, my silver eyes hidden. Please don't remember me, please.

The school was only two blocks away, so I walked, more to get away from my family than for the exercise, mom was dropping them to school. Imagine that the perfect family, a young looking mother in a fire truck red convertible, with her two darling children, a blonde in a super short skirt and yet another blonde in a not-so-baggy cargo pants that looks totally horrid on him, yet the cheerleaders think it's hot. My family, without me. He'll see them and by seeing he'll know I don't belong with them, and I would see those violet eyes full of sympathy. I DO NOT NEED SYMPATHY! Please don't remember me, please.

I was so lost in thought, I really wasn't looking where I was going, and speak of the devil. My head snapped up, my eyes narrowed, I zoned out the babbling fool apologizing for knocking me over, and I glared into the violet depths of the eyes of Kai Hiwatari.

And I knew he remembered me. Damn.

'Hey, are you even listening to me, I'm trying to apologize here!' snapped Tyson, the hyper-active fool that he was. He offered me his hand, I didn't take it. With one hand I pushed myself off the ground and with the other I grabbed my black shoulder bag, but I knew he'd seen the name embroided in silver thread along the front, my name, Liza Star Kendo.

I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist, 'Long time no see, Liza.'

His voice sent shivers up my spine; I was reeling from the shock of seeing him again. He looked the same, taller, more muscular but the same. Same eyes, same hair, same fondness of muscle shirts, he was wearing one right now. I smiled slightly at hi scarf, it fluttered slightly in the breeze, and I remembered.

AN: next chapter will be Kai's POV about the meeting, and a flashback. I'm trying to kill some plot monkeys, not bunnies, monkeys. How exactly did they meet? Who do you think I am, the bloody author? Glances at the tag on shirt that says author, oops.


End file.
